


Tools In Waiting

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Polyamory, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14280504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Guns, bare hands, and ridiculous clothing. These are the tools of The Vagabond’s trade.





	Tools In Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> For the very old kink_bingo prompt of 'silk & velvet & feathers & fur'

Ryan pulls to a stop in the parking garage under the condominium, one of a hundred open spots at this time of day. The Mustang easily fits into the allotted space, the convertible nothing when compared to some of the massive armoured vehicles they have. He automatically goes to scoop his long hair into a position behind his neck, to get all the wind swept strands back under control, and his thumbs pass through nothing. He chuckles to himself. Having had grown his hair out for over years, it’s an ingrained reflex, and now it’s useless. He cut his hair to normal guy length, and it’s going to be months before he can even think about needing a pony tail holder. 

He looks around the garage, pinpointing a few specific cars. There’s the all chrome Adder, there’s the Aston Martin, there’s the fifty different custom painted orange and purple vehicles in a row along the furthest wall. As far as Ryan can figure, all the guys will be home. The sooner he gets inside to them, the better.

Miles -one of the B Crew guys they planted to be security, for those days in which someone has to look away and turn off the cameras while Michael hauls a tied up unconscious guy inside- nods his ‘hey’, and presses the buzzer to let the heavy metal door open. The garage elevator takes him to a sequestered bit of the lobby of the building. There he has to key in his passcode before he can enter the expansive and luxuriously furnished area the elevators are held in. Chad is the elevator attendant, which makes Ryan smile a bit. He likes Chad. The guy is pliant, but helpful.

Taking the elevator to the penthouse only takes a minute, it’s a fast and smooth ride. Ryan puts his key in the button panel to open up the hinged door that lets him press the penthouse button. The elevator slides open to Blaine, one of the quickest draws the whole FAHC empire has to offer. He says hey, and numbers in the last passcode before he’s in his own hallway.

Yeah, it’s a few steps to get through, made all the more difficult drunk, or high, or wounded. It’s also a routine with a dozen choke points for cops, or rival gangs. If someone wants to get to them, it’s not going to be through their home, unless it’s a nuclear bomb killing all of San Andreas. 

To the left of him is the wide foyer, a full wall of jacket storage and benches with footwear storage. Between Geoff and Gavin, they need all they can get. Give Ryan a pair of runners and he’ll wear them ten years. Geoff and Gavin have some new sneaker or boot twice a week. Beyond that is the open entryway to the first family room. Ryan can hear the noises of at least two or three people that way. Michael’s playing a video game, enough shit talk blurring into each other that he can’t quite tell who Michael’s opponent is.

He kicks off his blue cowboy boots and quickly puts them into the underseat storage. If he doesn’t do it right away he’ll forget, at least until Michael is screaming about how everyone except him are messy assholes. Ryan begins to turn left to join his crew when he hears a low “hey, Rye,” and turns to his right to face it.

Gavin’s in the utility room, perched on one of the washing machines. The lights are off, but he’s still visible, with both the foyer light on, and the light in the hallway beyond the other door in the room.

“Hey Gav.” Ryan joins his British boyfriend in the room of boilers, laundry machines, and a shelf full of slow brewing mead. Jeremy hires out for his moonshine vice, but before FAHC completely absorbed The Creatures, one of the things they bonded over was making mead. It takes patience they don’t always have, but it’s fun.

“Hey, Ryan,” he repeats, voice groggy. He holds his arms out, and Ryan steps in between his spread legs, close, so Gavin can bury his face in his shoulder.

“You just wake up?” Gavin gets the short end of the stick sometimes, needing to electronically wrap up the trail ends of their heists, hours, even days after the job is complete and everyone else has moved into ‘what should I spend my new money on?’ territory. This time Ryan had an unexpected last note too, killing some guy who had witnessed something he shouldn’t have, but Geoff only knew to send Ryan out because of Gavin’s information gathered over a sleepless seventy two hours.

Gavin nods into the crook of Ryan’s neck. 

“You wanna go back to sleep? I can tuck you into the sound proof room. You’ll be safe from all those idiots,” Ryan says, gesturing to the distant family room.

“Nah. Slept there already. Woke up, had to pee, felt hungry. Heard them playing. Was gonna bug Geoff to make me a grilled cheese for brekkers, and watch whatever game it is. But then lovely you is here.”

“Lovely me is here,” Ryan laughs. He strokes his hands up and down Gavin’s sides. He’s wearing a luxurious pair of silk pyjamas. Ryan loves the feel of them.

“Ryan, do you want to cuddle, Ryan?”

Like he’s going to say no. Gavin is as clingy and hands on as an octopus, and Ryan’s had a lonely day of sitting in a man’s open concept dining room waiting in silence for him to get home. “Did you leave a warm spot?”

He puts his hands on Gavin’s waist and helps him jump down. He doesn’t need to, Gavin is second most flexible and spry, only Jeremy’s years of gymnastics keeping Gav from winning the title. Still, he likes touching Gavin. Once he’s on his feet, Ryan pulls him through the door that leads to the west side of the penthouse. Four out of the five bedrooms in the penthouse are along the west balcony, so they’ve got many beds to choose from.

If Ryan turned right, he could enter the soundproof room with Gavin. That’s a dick move though, so he won’t. When six guys live in a house together, even one as big as this place, it’s important that rules and boundaries are respected. Everything goes to shit otherwise, and they’re all too violent and too powerful to make it through a fall out unscathed. The sound proof room can be tapped into by anyone at any time, and it’s only for needing silence and isolation. As for the other three bedrooms, they’re nominally for pairs. Orgies on the reg is all well and good, shared pillows are well and good, but at the end of the day everyone still needs somewhere to put their stuff. Ryan shares his space with Geoff; they have a wall full of books that no one else would bother to read, and heavy sleeper Geoff doesn’t even notice Ryan’s insomnia. Jack and Gavin share, because Jack is a nester, and doesn’t get annoyed by all the random crap Gavin buys. And Michael and Jeremy work together, because they’re the loudest drunks, and the fightiest. 

Ryan gives it a second or two of thought. He has to steer them somewhere. Gavin’s only contribution is nestling into his leather jacket, hands in Ryan’s pockets. If Gavin’s sleepy motivation level had anything to do with it, they’d probably cuddle in the middle of the carpeted hallway floor.

He goes with his room, in the end. Gavin’s room is where to go if you’re looking for toys, no question about that, but Ryan’s only half sure this will turn sexual, and his bed is much better than Gavin’s in the case that they’re just laying down. Ryan closes the door when he gets them both through it. It’s hard to care about privacy during intimacy when you’re in a six person relationship, but that’s not what it’s about. Really, he just wants quiet. Sleepy sex kind of depends on being drowsy, and the dulcet tones of Michael cursing out his game won’t get Gavin halfway into REM.

“Lay down, I’ll be right there.”

Gavin pushes the huge custom duvet to Geoff’s side, and reclines onto the thick pillowtop mattress. He watches with half lidded eyes while Ryan tries to put a little pizzazz in his stripping down. Jacket, black t-shirt, jeans with rips at the knee that he’s pretty sure are actually Geoff’s; he’s by no means at Los Santos stripper level of sensual partial nudity, but he can try. Gavin won’t laugh at him for it, not like Jeremy would.

He joins Gavin when he’s naked. Gavin’s starfished on the bed, and Ryan slots in, half on top of him, half in the space beside him. Ryan gets to work kissing him, slow and gentle, their chests rising and falling most of the movement they’re making together. Gavin tastes like mint toothpaste, and he doesn’t smell like anything. It’s like falling in love with a ghost, there’s so little there. But Ryan keeps kissing him, will keep kissing him until his eyes close entirely and he drifts off again.

It’s Gavin who breaks the minimalism. He arches up, pushing his groin into Ryan’s. What else can Ryan do, except thrust back down to meet him? The sensation of it is amazing. Silk stroking against his cock is like watching blood spill out of a slit throat; fluid and unctuous. He can’t manage to stop himself once he starts thrusting, the delicious lack of friction really getting to him. Luckily Gavin’s into it too. Gav’s hands move to Ryan’s head, fingers teasing the shorn nape of his neck. He never would have guessed how many nerve endings are in his neck, but Gavin’s light touch makes him want to bite the British man’s tongue.

It’s good fortune that Gavin’s tongue isn’t actually near his teeth when the gunshot rings out. Ryan starts. It’s a familiar noise, of course, but out of place in this scenario. He doesn’t hear any shouting, any screaming, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anyone is safe. Maybe a smoke bomb was thrown through the window, and his crew are trying to avoid detection. He can’t know for sure until he’s out there. He grabs the gun nestled between two different bookends, separating a series of his and an anthology collection of Geoff’s.

“I’ll go through the utility room, you grab something and go through the kitchen.” Across the hall from Michael and Jeremy’s room is the armory. There’s enough firepower for a hundred Gavins, a lot of it preloaded. 

Ryan doesn’t wait for Gavin’s agreement, or take the time to pull any of his clothes on. Time is crucial, and there’s nothing that a t-shirt and jeans will do that nudity wouldn’t, tactically speaking. He runs out of his room and into the foyer with that certain step that makes him nearly silent. He can’t see anything out of the ordinary so he curves himself just barely past the entryway into the family room.

“Are you fucking _kidding me_?” He bellows.

“The game was being an asshole!” Jeremy exclaims, completely unrepentant. “Also, fuck Michael!”

“Ryan, what’s going on Ryan?” Gavin asks. His voice echos like he’s only just started down the hall through the kitchen and dining room.

“Dipshit here got a rage boner!” Ryan explains, gesturing at the purple and orange haired asshole in front of him. Not that Gavin can see it. What he might see though, right when he walks in, is what Jeremy’s caused. The living room is stocked with a dozen luxurious body pillows, for when video games are best played sprawled on the floor. Jeremy’s gone and fucking shot one of them, in a way that’s made it start to spill out onto the floor. The feathers going to be a bitch and a half to clean up, and Ryan’s not gonna fuckin’ be the one.

“Nice hair, Haywood,” Michael says. He’s smirking at everyone in the room, a standard state of being for Michael.

“Thank you, but I wanna fuckin’ strangle you.”

Michael looks up at him, a long slow gaze all the way up his naked body, before ending with eye contact. “Do it.”

It’s all the permission Ryan needs. He’s been with all of these assholes long enough to know when they’re joking, saying outrageous things for effect, and when they’re being serious. Michael wants him to, and thrumming with adrenaline that has no current outlet, Ryan wants to. He drops to his knees, vaguely aware of Jeremy scrambling out of the way and taking both controllers with him, for safety. Michael’s legs part and Ryan crawls between them, dick hard against Michael’s taint. Not that the explosives expert can probably even feel it, with his jeans and undies still on. It’s only Ryan who feels denim rough on his cock, making him want to slice a slit into the jeans and fuck Michael while he’s still dressed.

Michael bends his legs over Ryan’s thighs, and once he’s got one hand situated on Michael’s right calf, Ryan uses his right to choke Michael. He’s arched over Michael, completely eclipsing the smaller man. Probably no one can see what he’s doing to Michael, not Geoff and Jack on the couch, not Jeremy where he’s retreated to the armchair nearest the tv, but at the worst angle for gameplaying. Maybe Gavin, who is in the kitchen now, toes curling the edge of where it’s one step down into the living area. He might benefit from the aerial distance.

Call him a barbarian. Call him a thug. Whatever the word is, Ryan will gladly take the accusation as payment for this giddy enjoyment of his palm on Michael’s throat. He looks so good with a collar of fingers Ryan could fuck him this instant. Michael’s face is slowly turning red, but Ryan isn’t concerned. Safewording isn’t a thing anyone in this room really does. If you don’t like something that’s happening, take a swing at the person doing it. They’ll stop. Ryan trusts Michael to hit him if it’s getting too intense. 

Ryan hears a ripping sound behind him. He can’t look, not now, but he feels more feathers wafting around his calves. Someone must be slicing open more pillows. Jeremy’s the only one in the clear, Ryan can see him in his peripheral vision. It could be any of the other three deciding feathers is the cherry on top for this scene. At the rate they’re going, by evening they won’t have any left. Good thing they’ve all got the stolen money to buy out a Bed Bath & Beyond.

The first real interaction he and Michael have with any of their other boyfriends -feathers not counting, because whomever did it didn’t say anything- is Jeremy. He lays down on the feathered rug beside them, on his side. It’s not a comfortable position long term, not with the body pillows decimated, but it’s good enough for now. He watches for a minute, face a foot or less away from Ryan’s fingers bruising lines into Michael’s pale skin, fluttering open just enough to let Michael gasp in a single breath before he clamps down again.

It doesn’t come as much of a surprised when Jeremy starts kissing Michael. Maybe Jeremy means it as a sweet distraction from how he can’t breathe. Maybe it makes the whole thing more intense, in a way that Jeremy has insider info about Michael liking, the hardcore little fucker. Either way, Michael doesn’t turn his head away, doesn’t stop it. Either way, Ryan doesn’t let go. He might let Michael catch his breath for a second or two, so he doesn’t die like like David Carradine or Michael Hutchence, one of those idiots, but he’s not letting go completely.

“Hey. Lovely Ryan?”

Ryan twists a little, to look in the direction of Gavin’s voice. He’s perched on one of the arms of the couch Jack and Geoff are sharing. All three of them are shirtless now. It says a lot about the sexiness of the scenario that their shirts are just randomly discarded. Gavin and Geoff are picky about their clothing, and Jack likes tidiness. They must be super into what they can see of the scene in front of them to have their horniness override their natures.

“Yeah Gav?”

“Can I have a go at my boi? You mind?”

“How can you say no to this face?” Geoff asks, pinching the upper part of Gavin’s jaw with one hand.

“Come on over,” Ryan invites. One of the best parts of being in a large polyamorous relationship is how there’s endless switching of partners. Boredom is so far from a option it’s not even a speck on the horizon.

Ryan backs away as Gavin gets in on things. There’s no way he’s going to continue choking Michael, which is probably for the best. Actually, Ryan would put money on Gavin ending up riding Michael. Hell, depending on how sleepy and pliant and loose limbed he’s feeling, he might end up taking both of them at once. With a few cushions propping them all up in crucial areas, with Jeremy nestling in as close as he can, they could make double penetration work. 

Ryan leaves them to it, and turns to the occupied couch. Jack and Geoff are both still upright, but Jack’s got his jeans halfway down his thighs. Geoff has twisted to face Jack as well as he can without raising his legs to sit crosslegged and perpendicular, and he’s stroking his cock. Geoff’s got chipped black nail polish on his fingertips, because no one’s going to tell the boss bitch of FAHC and Los Santos that that’s a 2005 emo kid thing. With his fingers curled around Jack’s erection, the jagged ovals of black are the only colour standing out from all the flesh tone.

“Geoff, I wanna suck your cock.”

“Done and done,” Geoff says happily. He slides back to face outward, and begins complicated maneuvers to get his jeans and undies off without standing up. Ryan crawls a knee length forward, and then another. He’s going to shove Geoff’s legs apart and plunge down on that dick. He can already imagine the feel of it in his mouth. Geoff doesn’t have the best dick in the room, for girth that’s Jack, and for endurance that’s Jeremy, but he comes second in both regards. When Ryan gets in a cocksucking mood, he could play with Geoff for fuckin’ _hours_.

“Ryan, come up here, actually,” Jack requests. Orders, more like. Jack’s by far the most commanding in bed. A Sexy Dominant Jack persona just takes over from the chill, self-deprecating attitude he usually has. In combination with the instruction, Jack slides over so that he’s against the left armrest, and pushes at Geoff’s closer hip until the guy shuffles back to his own armrest. 

It’s awkward, the position Jack has put him in. Geoff is half cross legged now, left leg bent so that it has somewhere to go, right foot flat against the floor. To have his head in Geoff’s lap, his stomach flat on the middle cushion, and his legs in Jack’s lap puts Ryan curled up in a yoga-like U. It’s awkward, so why does Ryan love it so much? 

For one, the tufted couch feels goddamn marvelous on his skin. It’s expensive, smooth white velvet, the kind that’s high maintenance, low longevity. It’s a piece of furniture that proves the wealth of the person buying it, because only the rich would buy something they’d have to replace in six months. Ryan’s not always in the criminal lifestyle for enjoying excess, but sometimes nothing can compare.

Another point scored for Jack’s idea is the way it’s forcing Ryan’s head up. Trying to get past Geoff’s leg to his cock, with his arms no useful anchor, Ryan’s got no choice but to arch his head backward. It’s the kind of blowie that gets him off as well. There are a few techniques Ryan likes best. On his back, face tilted as someone fucks his mouth and makes him gag is good. Wearing a posture collar is another. A thick, four inch lockable collar, so he has to position himself precisely before he can really get a rhythm going. Everyone has their own thing, Ryan’s just happens to be blowjobs of dubious consent.

Velvet on his dick and good positioning of his neck aren’t the only good things, though. Ryan also likes how Jack’s got his ass displayed right where his hand can settle on top of it. He doesn’t think that Jack will spank him, at least not without informing him first, but eyes closed bobbing on Geoff’s cock, it’s easy to imagine.

Sadly it doesn’t last forever. Jack takes hold of his ankles, and momentarily bends him into even more of a pretzel before standing up. Ryan tracks his movement without ever taking his mouth off of Geoff, and sees that Jack has gone to sit in the armchair Jeremy was originally sequestered at. It makes sense. From that perspective he can be a much better witness to Jeremy sucking Gavin’s dick as Michael fucks him.

Ryan blows Geoff for a decadently long time. He ruts his cock against the velvet a handful of times, more for the pure sensation of it than because he wants to get off. He’s not ready yet. Nor is he the only one. More than once Gavin yawns, but he doesn't let it derail him. He wants to be stuffed with cock more than he wants to sleep. Enthusiasm like that is sexy, at least to Ryan. He can only hope Geoff is appreciative of what he’s getting the way that Jeremy and Michael are happy with Gav.

He knows Geoff’s about to blow his load when classically tattooed fingers clamp down on his skull. Geoff is somewhat of a hair puller, and up until a few hours ago Geoff’s first move would have been to tug off Ryan’s elastic band and weave his fingers in deep. Now though, Geoff has to limit himself to the short strands he now has, to keep Ryan in place while he swallows him down. 

Geoff slumps back into the couch cushions and his dick slips out of Ryan’s mouth. Geoff’s hand stays on his head, but his grip is all but nonexistent. In the most caring of ways, Geoff’s done with him now. Yet another good reason to be in a large polycule. Different people can be selfish at different times, and it doesn’t destroy the relationship, because there’s always someone on the other side of the spectrum.

About to get up to join the younger of his boyfriends on the floor, Ryan happens to catch Jack’s eye first. Jack quirks one side of his lips up in a half smile, then nods his head towards the entryway out of the room. Ryan makes the quick choice to stand up and follow Jack. He’s not sure what the guy has in mind, but he's never had bad sex with Jack.

“Do you want me to pose you, or will you do what I say?”

Ryan's not by nature a submissive guy. It doesn't fit in him, bowing and kneeling and saying yes sir. There are a few times he can make an exception though. Professionally, of course. If someone who knows more about a situation tells him what he's best off doing, he'll listen. Jack too, is an exception. There's something about the height, the weight, the facial hair, the sheer competence at everything he does that just hits a very small exclusive part of Ryan.

“Where do you want me?”

Jack looks up and down Ryan’s naked, at attention form. “Face against the wall in the niche the idiots cut out.”

Ryan knows exactly what Jack means; the lone part of the closet lining the whole foyer wall that doesn’t have a bench section for boots or shoes. It came out of some weird bet between Jeremy and Gavin that he wasn't quite privy to, something with chainsaws. All Ryan really knows is Geoff refuses to pay for fixing it up because he’s not encouraging stupidity, and Gavin and Jeremy refuse to buckle to the shame and fix it either. Meanwhile Jack and Michael are too smart to get involved. The section still has hanging jackets, mostly costume jackets for heists. Geoff keeps all his suit jackets in his closet. 

Ryan walks over and begins to push the jackets as much to the side as he can, all the way to the wood partitions. There are a few of his in here. Not his main blue and black leather, of course. That made it into his room. The black one's there however, and the tacky white denim jacket with silver studs. 

“Did I say move them?”

Ryan thinks about pointing out that he said nose to the wall, which is impossible with the layers of outerwear in the way. He'd say that and more if Jeremy or Gavin were in the room. But then, they wouldn't be asking. This is Jack, and Ryan wants what will come next if he does this thing. He lets go of the fabric in hand and watches it sway before coming to a stop. He steps in closer. He's against another one of his own jackets. Quite possibly the most ridiculous on he owns. It's a fur coat, ankle length to maximize the look. It has tremendous volume, he looks three times the width wearing it. It was Jeremy who convinced him to buy it. Rimmy Tim, the king of ostentatious fashion.

Next thing he knows, Jack steps in behind him. It's interesting, being with a barrel chested man after three variations of twink, and a thick but small guy. Jack's trash can lid hands grab his ass and Ryan's head drops forward until it’s touching the long fur. 

“Whose jacket is most likely to have lube in it?” Jack asks.

Ryan thinks about it. He could name twenty places in the penthouse to get lube. All the bedrooms, the powder room, the living room. In the kitchen there's some in the drawer and some in the fridge for temperature play. What those bottles all have in common, however, is they all involve moving away from Jack. If he can conjure up a correct guess and stretch he doesn’t have to move. 

“Try Michael's leather one, the bear one. You know, it-”

“Yeah,” Jack replies. Of course Jack agrees Michael's bear jacket has the supplies. Everyone knows he's the most likely to want a drunk public washroom fuck. Michael likes to feel things after the fact, likes attention. Frankly Ryan's surprised they haven't done a spanking thing yet. He's waiting until Michael brings it up though. You don’t just spring ‘so, you’re a completely submissive bratty bitch, huh’ on people without letting them come to terms with it first.

“Found it,” Jack says, returning from his journey to Michael’s leather jacket.

“Knew you would.”

Ryan misses the sound of the bottle clicking open, thanks to the noises of the other three still going at it. Not surprisingly, he can’t hear Geoff. Unlike the rest of them, Geoff has no interest in prolonging things. Once he’s sated, he’s done. What he doesn’t miss is Jack’s left hand pulling his asscheek to the side. Ryan breathes deeply into the fur coat as Jack immediately sinks two fingers into him. When you get fucked as frequently as they all do, time needed to relax reduces. Ryan doesn't have a gape kink but it's easy to imagine Jeremy just pushing into him no warning one day.

Jack cursorily opens him up, just enough to make things possible, before he’s pushing into him. Ryan takes a step forward, can’t help it. It’s not that he wants to get away from Jack, only that the weight and pressure of a hard place is going to make anything not rock move. He doesn’t have too far to go, though. It’s only a foot or two before there’s the wall. Jack crowds in, enters him again, and starts fucking him. Ryan feels half suffocated, between all of Jack's bulk behind him and the fur lined hard stop of the wall. It’s a good feeling, having nowhere to go.

Jack's thrusts are powerful. That’s the thing about Jack; you don’t bottom with him unless you want to be demolished. Lucky for Jack, he’s dating a bunch of men who do everything to excess. Ryan doesn't have much choice about how he takes the pounding -doesn’t _want_ much choice- but he does allow himself to rock up on his feet with each drive in. The pelt of fur rubs him the wrong way when Ryan’s chest pushes upwards. The long strands are bristly in the wrong direction. The feeling of it makes Ryan burst out in shivers. 

Everything begins to coalesce. The erotic confinement. The hideous/delicious texture of the fur. The length of time he’s been hard and turned on. The fact that he can still hear Jeremy and Michael finishing off what they’re doing, Gavin probably asleep on the floor now. Altogether it’s a devastating combo. Jack knows, he _must_ know Ryan’s close, and he keeps on fucking him like he's trying to shovel his orgasm out of him.

Ryan orgasms pressed entirely against the fur. His eyes are closed and his head down, he can feel the ridge of the hanger poking into his forehead. His chest rapidly expands and contracts as he tries to catch his breath, bothering the nape of the fur with each breath. His spent dick is trapped between his stomach and the strands, making a mess of everything.

“I’m gonna come on you,” Jack informs him. “Let everyone see they played with you, but I claimed you.”

Ryan nods into the coat, not quite ready to talk yet. Jesus Christ is that hot. Not that he thinks Jack is seeking approval. He’s not. Sexy Dominant Jack doesn’t tend to ask for permission. Ryan’s merely applauding his decision.

Jack told him about the jizz on his back, so when that hits, warm and wet, Ryan’s expecting it. What comes as a surprise are the teeth in his neck. It’s a new target, a new patch of bare skin after so long with long hair. Jack’s the first to mark it, something he’s undoubtedly proud of. Ryan attempts to flex his head even more, give the bigger guy better access. The guys won’t mock him for a hickey on the nape of his neck. Much. They all know how Jack gets during sex.

Jack takes his hands off Ryan’s hips. “Come on. Let’s go join everyone else. I want some snuggly post sex Jeremy.”

Fair enough. Ryan understands the urge. He might see if Gavin’s still available himself. He shucks the fur coat off the hanger and slips it over his shoulders. Sure, he’s rubbing Jack’s spunk all over the satin lining, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have had to get it detailed anyway, considering his own leavings on the outside. The coat is big, and warm against his chilling skin, and whoever ends up in his arms will love the texture of it. If the aftermath is all happening in the living room, which, looks like, Ryan couldn’t ask for anything more.


End file.
